


Should Be One Somewhere

by completelyhopeless



Series: Shirt Theft [14]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, could be friends could be more, shirt theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3143894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/completelyhopeless/pseuds/completelyhopeless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has no clean shirts. He should have plenty, but he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Should Be One Somewhere

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shanachie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanachie/gifts).



> Among the many prompts the wonderful Shanachie gave me was one for this series. "He needs a clean shirt and there's none to find."
> 
> And so I wrote this.

* * *

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for a shirt,” Clint said, knowing he should have dozens of them around here. He hadn't been home to do laundry in a while—it ranked very low on his priorities—but he should have had some clean ones here _somewhere_ because he'd bought more not long before his last mission. Shirts had a high casualty rate with him, and he knew it, and he knew most of his paycheck went to replacing them, stupid as it was.

“You don't have a shirt?”

He stopped, looking back at his partner. “Since when are your powers of observation that bad? You can see I don't have one, and I know you're not admiring the view. You've seen better.”

Natasha leaned against his doorway, a faint smile on her lips. “That doesn't negate the entertainment value of this moment.”

He sat back, shaking his head at her. “Seriously? You took _all_ my shirts?”

“Not the dirty ones,” she answered, turning to leave. “You're welcome, by the way.”

“Yeah, sure, thanks a lot,” he muttered, grabbing another shirt from the floor and giving it a quick sniff to see if he could make it work. He grimaced and threw it away, deciding he'd grab the spare Coulson kept in his desk drawer instead.


End file.
